“Would you consider sleeping over at her house?” Terry asked.
“I’d hate it,” I answered. “She has cats. Cats give me hives. I’m allergic to them.”
“Your mom mentioned that,” Terry said thoughtfully. “Why don’t we go next door? I’d like to meet Mrs. Brown.”
“She’s at church,” I explained. “Nirvana went with her.”
“So you’re all alone?”
“What does it look like?” I snapped. I was getting tired of all her questions and the way she was staring at me, as if I were someone to feel sorry for. “I’m really okay here by myself,” I assured her. “Otis and I were living alone before he left. We did just fine.”
“Children shouldn’t be alone, Haley,” she said.
I looked her in the eye. “I’m not a child.”
“Yes, you are,” she said.
A feeling of dread came over me. Something awful was about to happen! “I won’t be alone…when—when Ma comes home,” I stammered. “I’m not alone now. I have neighbors.”
“I don’t think that’s quite enough,” Terry said. “I hope you don’t find it too upsetting,” she continued, “but while she’s in the hospital, your mother and I would like for you to live somewhere else.”
For a moment, the breath was knocked out of me. “Where?” I cried. “I don’t understand! This is my apartment! You’re not going to take me away!” I said, rushing for the telephone. “My mother won’t let you!” I grabbed the phone and punched in Ma’s number. Luckily, she picked up right away.
“Ma!”
“Good morning, Haley.”
“There’s a social worker here who wants to take me someplace!” I glanced at Terry and backed away. I hated her! “You didn’t tell her to do that, did you?”
“Is her name Terry Soriano?” Ma asked quietly.
“Yeah, but—”
“Put her on,” Ma interrupted.
I dropped the phone. I was doomed. “She wants to speak with you.”
Terry gave me a little smile and picked up the phone.
I stood there listening with a scowl on my face.
“Hello, Mrs. Moon? Your lights have been cut off and your neighbor is nowhere to be found. I have a spot for Haley. I can take her with me right now.”
“You’re not taking me anywhere!” I shouted.
“Your daughter is very upset,” Terry continued, talking to Ma. “It’s only natural.” She paused.
“What is Ma saying?” I cried.
“Why don’t you speak with her yourself?” Terry suggested in a gentle voice. I took a few steps forward, and she handed me the telephone.
“Ma?” My heart was beating a mile a minute.
“Please cooperate, Haley.”
I gasped. “You mean I have to go with her? Leave our apartment?”
“It will only be for a little while, until I get out of here,” Ma said. I could hear that she was already crying.
“But what if Otis comes home?” I argued. “I won’t be here.”
“Do as I say, Haley,” she pleaded. “You don’t have a choice.”
“I would if you would come home.”
“This is for your own safety, darling.”
“Mrs. Brown is taking care of—”
“I have to trust the social worker,” said Ma. “Get hold of yourself.”
“Where is she going to take me?”
“A group boarding home,” Ma explained. “It’s only temporary.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” I argued. “Otis is the one who stole the clothes!”
“Calm down, Haley,” Ma said firmly. “This isn’t because you did anything wrong. This is for your protection.”
Terry stepped in closer. “Why don’t you hang up now, Haley? You can call your mother later on, when you’re settled.”
“I don’t want to get settled,” I said with an angry sob.
“Haley?” Ma’s voice floated over the telephone wire. “You can do this. You’re brave.”
I slammed down the phone. “I don’t care what she says. I’m not going.”
Terry gazed into my face. She looked truly sorry. “I know how upsetting this is. You’ll be able to come back home when your mother gets well. You can even make trips here before then. A social worker will come with you. I know you’ll want to check in or pick up more of your things.”
I slumped down at the table and hid my face.
“I’ll give you a moment to pull yourself together,” she said. “Then we’ll pack some clothes. Don’t forget that your mother agrees that this is a good plan. There are other kids in the boarding home.”
“What kind of home is it?” I sniffed, lifting my head. I couldn’t believe it was happening! First Otis, then me! “How far away is it?” I whimpered.
“It’s a nice apartment in a building something like your own,” she explained. “It’s not far away at all. You’ll still be in your own neighborhood.” She patted my hand. “Hopefully, it’ll only be for a little while. Come now, get ready. Would you like for me to pack your stuff?”
I jerked up from the table. “Please don’t. I’ll do it myself.”
Ma had taken the suitcase, so I packed my things in my box. Once upon a time, I had imagined that Ma had slid into a well, but now I was the one sliding down. I was slipping on all the feelings I had inside. One minute I felt like crying, and the next minute I felt like hitting Terry over the head and breaking the walls down. I knew I should cooperate to please Ma, but I felt like locking myself in the closet and never coming back out. I slammed my Grimms’ into the box with my pajamas. I rolled up Grandma Dora’s earrings in one of my socks. While Terry wrote something on a piece of paper from her notebook, I got my money out of the cookie jar and shoved it into my wallet. It was hard to think what to take; I wouldn’t be gone long, I told myself. I couldn’t be! Overalls, shirt, Monkey, the snake. I grabbed Otis’s toothbrush, forgetting my own. I also took my thesaurus, though a word had not yet been invented for the way that I felt.
I sat down on my bed, holding the box.
“Ready?” asked Terry.
“What about Nirvana and Mrs. Brown?” I choked. “They’ll be worried about me.”
“I’ll slip a note under their door and telephone Mrs. Brown later,” she promised. “Let’s go.”
I took a last look at my unmade bed, then at Ma’s bed and at Otis’s couch, at the tub, the table, and the crack in the ceiling. I didn’t cry. My tears were blocked up inside of me, because there were too many to let out.
Terry had told the truth. The boarding home wasn’t far away, located in a dull brown building. The apartment, which was on the first floor, was much larger than ours, but everything was a yellow that reminded me of mucus. Yellow curtains hung at the window. On the table was a yellow tablecloth, and on the beds were yellow spreads. The apartment had three rooms: a big kitchen with a table and chairs, and two bedrooms. I would be sharing a bedroom with two other girls, Yvonne and Maria, both of whom seemed younger than me. There was a woman, too, named Angela. When Terry introduced me to the three of them, I kept my eyes glued to the floor. Terry led me into the bedroom with my things, and the others followed us.
“In a while we’re going to the park for a softball game,” Yvonne, the littler girl, said. I guessed that she was about eight. “Do you like softball?”
I lay down on my bed and turned away. “Softball is for dorks,” I breathed softly.
“Did you say something?” asked Maria. She was chubby and the older of the two. I kept my lips glued.
“What’s her problem?” Maria asked Terry.
“Mahalia is tired,” said Terry. “Maybe we should let her rest for a while.”
“Yes, we’ll leave you alone for a bit,” Angela said quietly. Then the four of them trailed away.
I was tired, but I didn’t shut my eyes. How could Ma think this was better than my staying by myself or even sleeping at Mrs. Brown’s? Living in an apartment with yellow stuff and tota
l strangers?
After about fifteen minutes or so, Angela and Terry came back into the room. Unlike Terry, who wore her gray hair in a bun, Angela wore her black hair in a long braid. She touched me softly on the back. “Would you like a snack? We’ve got chips and all kinds of good stuff.”
“I don’t want a snack,” I muttered, jerking away.
“How long will she be here?” Angela asked Terry.
“We’re not sure,” replied Terry.
I turned my head and glared. “I don’t like it when people talk about me as if I weren’t even here,” I said.
“Sorry,” said Angela. “Would you like us to leave you alone again?”
“Yes,” I snapped.
The two women tiptoed out. The apartment was deadly quiet. I guessed they’d decided to give me the silent treatment. I lay on my bed for what seemed like a hundred hours, trying not to be scared. I had never lived away from home. That’s one reason Ma had always wanted me to go to camp, so that I could have the experience.
Angela came back into the room, this time by herself. She smiled, but, thankfully, kept her distance. I didn’t like my back being touched by a stranger.
“Ready to come out now?” she asked. “Rayelle has taken the other girls for ice cream.”
“I thought they were going to play softball,” I said, peering up at her.
She nodded. “Then after that, they were going for ice cream.”
I turned my face to the wall and muffled my mouth with my fist. “Who’s this Rayelle person?” I grumbled.
Angela leaned closer, trying to understand me.
“Who is Rayelle?” I demanded in a louder voice.
“She’s the other woman who works here,” Angela explained. “Sometimes we have shifts together, and at other times we’re here alone with the girls.” I peeked at her face. Her eyes were kind.
“We like to think of ourselves as temporary mothers,” she told me.
Panic rose in my chest. I already had a mother!
“Where’s Terry?” I asked crossly.
“Terry had to leave,” said Angela. “She’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.”
“Does she live here?” I asked.
“No,” said Angela. She perched on the edge of the bed. “I know it must be confusing for you—all these new people.”
“I don’t care,” I said with a shrug.
“Why don’t you get up and stretch your legs?” she cajoled. “You’ll feel better if you do.”
I dragged myself out of bed and followed her into the kitchen. One of my legs had actually fallen asleep. I hopped around in front of the refrigerator. Yellow smiley faces were pasted all over it. “The kids in this place must come from sick homes,” I sniped.
“Why do you think that?” asked Angela.
“Because they’re happy to be here,” I said.
“You’re not, are you?”
“No, why should I be? I come from a great family.” A pain shot through my chest. “We just happen to be going through a rough spot. My brother got into trouble, but he’s not a bad guy. My mother is in the hospital, but any day she’ll be well.”
“I’m sure she will,” Angela said quietly. “I made some egg salad,” she said. “Would you like a sandwich?” She plopped the egg salad onto some bread.
“I don’t eat egg salad. It smells like farts.” I stared at the table. “Do you know what kinds of lunches they serve in jail?”
“I think they try to serve balanced meals,” Angela replied kindly. She poured me a glass of water. “Drink this.”
“I’m not thirsty.” I clamped my mouth and rolled my eyes.
“You’ll get dehydrated,” she persisted, “especially in this hot weather.”
“No.”
“So you refuse to eat or drink, then?”
“Yes,” I replied in defiance. “I’m on a hunger strike, and that includes water.”
“And what must I do in order for you to end the strike?” Angela asked in a serious tone.
“Let me out of here.”
“Sorry,” said Angela. “We can’t do that.”
“Then at least don’t bother me,” I said, turning toward the room where my bed was.
Yvonne and Maria burst into the apartment, giggling and clutching ice cream cones. I looked at them over my shoulder. An older woman in a dress covered with an autumn-leaf design was with them.
“This is Rayelle,” Angela said.
The leaf-dress woman smiled at me. “Hello, Mahalia.” “Hi,” I grunted, walking away.
“How is she?” I heard Rayelle ask.
“Pretty irritable,” Angela replied, talking about me as if I weren’t there.
“Want a lick of ice cream?” Yvonne asked, racing after me.
“Why would I want to eat that melted mess?” I snarled. “Look, it’s dripping all down your arms. You’re really a slob! Why don’t you smear some egg salad on top of it?”
“That’s not nice!” Yvonne whined, following me into the bedroom. “Did you hear what she said to me?” she called to Maria with a pout.
“Better watch your mouth,” Maria said, strutting into the room.
“Watch yours,” I shot back, “or I’ll get my brother to beat you up. He’s a big-time crook.” Both Maria and Yvonne backed off. I sat down on my bed.
Angela came into the room. “Would you like to speak with your mom?” she asked, sitting down next to me. “We could call her.”
“No, thanks,” I said. “She’ll only be crying.”
I lay down and curled up into a ball. When Angela left, I reached down into my box and pulled out Monkey. I stared at the wall while life in the apartment went on. Sounds of laughter came from the kitchen. I could hear Yvonne and Maria playing games. When I heard the clanging of pots and pans and the clatter of dishes, I knew it was dinnertime. My stomach rumbled, but I felt too upset to eat. Later on, Yvonne and Maria came into the bedroom and changed into their pajamas. Finally, I heard someone walking toward my bed.
“Time for lights-out. Don’t you want to change?” It didn’t sound like Angela, but I refused to look.
I pretended to be asleep, but I wasn’t. My heart ached. I missed Otis. And even though Ma had let them take me away, I missed her more than ever. I heard her voice in my ear. Be cooperative, Haley. I barely slept.
When morning came, I popped up and quietly crept into the kitchen. Angela was there, packing lunches.
“Good morning,” she said. “Feel any better?”
“A little,” I said politely. I looked down at my clothes. “I guess I got wrinkled.”
“Would you like to take a shower?” she asked. “There’s a lock on the bathroom door. You can shower and change in private in there.”
“Maybe later,” I said hesitantly.
She offered me a glass of orange juice. I took a gulp. She offered me a piece of toast and I gobbled it down.
“Rayelle said your mother called last night while you were asleep,” Angela told me. “Your mom didn’t want you to be awakened.”
My heart skipped a beat. I had missed Ma’s call!
“But I wasn’t asleep,” I protested. “Did you speak to her?”
She shook her head. “I had gone home already,” Angela explained. “Rayelle spent the night here.”
“Where is Rayelle now?” I asked curiously.
“She went home at six.” She went back to making lunches.
I began to pace. It was too early to call Ma at the hospital. She probably just wanted to make sure I was being cooperative, I thought. I wrinkled my nose at the smiley faces on the refrigerator. I glanced at Angela.
“Every time I see you, you’re making a sandwich,” I grumbled.
“Do you like jelly with your peanut butter?” she inquired.
“Sure,” I muttered. “But you don’t have to make me lunch.”
“Oh, you’ll need a lunch at the pool,” said Angela.
“What pool?”
“The neighborhood poo
l. There’s a program there. Kind of like a day camp. Yvonne and Maria love it. You’ll go there right after your physical.”
I blinked. “Physical?”
“Terry is going to take you to the clinic for a physical and then drop you off at the pool.”
“But I don’t need a physical.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, “no needles, just a routine checkup. It’s policy.”
“I can’t go,” I said.
“Why not?”
“I have a job,” I explained. “I have to go to work.”
“Nobody said anything about a job,” Angela said.
“Well, I have one,” I insisted, “and it’s very important.”
“I can’t permit you to go,” said Angela.
“My boss is depending on me,” I said hotly.
“Sorry,” she said.
I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m going, whether you like it or not.”
“Mind your attitude,” Angela said crisply. “You can’t go anywhere without our permission.” She threw some apples into the bags. “Where is this job, anyway?”
“In Queens,” I lied, narrowing my eyes. If she wasn’t going to let me go, what business was it of hers?
“That’s out of the question, then,” Angela said, glancing at the clock. “Have another piece of toast. I have to wake up Yvonne and Maria.” She turned her back and went into the bedroom. I opened the front door and walked out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I bolted out of the apartment building and ran as fast as I could. The only thing I could do was run away. How could I stay with a dictator like Angela, who didn’t care if my life got wrecked? Didn’t she understand that everything I had, had been taken away? Ma, Otis, my apartment—and now she’d taken my job! If there was nothing left in my life, what was the point of staying in some boarding home? So that I could go swimming every day with a bunch of little brats? I was so mad I could hardly see straight. I ducked into a subway station. I needed a place to think. But it was so hot underground, I felt as if I might faint. Impulsively, I reached into my pocket for some change, bought a token at the booth, and bumped through the turnstile. A whistle blared, warning of the approaching train. A man standing next to me inched forward. If I got on the train, too, where would it take me? Only a few stops away was Port Authority, the big bus terminal. Buses left from the station for places all over the country. The subway screeched to a halt, and I rushed forward with the crowd as the doors yawned open and people pushed their way in or out of the train. Wiggling my way through, I stepped into the train and found a pole to hold on to. People squeezed in close to me on either side. I found it hard to breathe as we traveled toward 42nd Street. Lots of other people were getting off there, too. I let myself be pushed along by the crowd. Then I was out again, standing on the platform.
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